Cream Tea
by SamCyberCat
Summary: Emmy finds Layton asleep in his office and decides to have a little fun. Layton/Emmy.


Notes – The story outline for this was provided by Crazyhattrick, so full credit to her. Set sometime after the fourth game, with some spoilers for said game.

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><p>No one denied that Professor Layton was a hard worker.<p>

His days were generally broken up between solving elaborate mysteries in sinister locations, foiling the plans of even more sinister evil masterminds and teaching his archaeology class at Gressenheller University. For all he was away on business quite often he never allowed his class to fall behind, because if they failed due to neglect on his part he'd find that unbearable.

As well as this, he also had the newly acquired duty of caring for his friend Clark's son, Luke, who was staying with him in London. Prior to Luke joining the household, it seemed that Layton lived mostly on an existence of studying, allowing his maid Rosa to do all of the smaller tasks, like making his home look less like a hurricane had blown through it. Now that another person was dependant on him Layton was trying to put a bit more effort into doing these things himself.

All of these tasks were leaving him quite worn out, so it didn't come to a great surprise to his assistant Emmy when she walked into his office one day to find that he had fallen asleep on his desk.

Layton was face down in a pile of half-marked papers, his marker pen having rolled out of his hand and landed on the floor when he'd released his grip on it. Emmy was surprised that the noise hadn't woke him. But the Professor's sleep seemed like a heavy one. She watched his shoulders heave up and down, trying not to smirk at the sight.

"Professor…?" she whispered.

He didn't respond.

In a slightly louder voice, she went on, "Professor, there's some notes that Dean Delmona wants you too look over."

"Put them… put them… yes, there…" Layton mumbled, his brow furrowing for a moment, before he settled back to his dreams.

"Where, Professor?" Emmy asked, suppressing her laughter.

"Over… there…"

He motioned vaguely in the direction of the bin. At this point Emmy couldn't stop herself from laughing, though even that sharp noise wasn't enough to jolt Layton awake.

"I don't think the Dean would like that," she said, "I'll just leave them on your desk for you to see to when you wake up."

She placed them on the edge of the desk, hopefully at enough of a distance so that he wouldn't knock them off if he moved about in his sleep. Layton seemed to mumble something to confirm that he'd heard her but otherwise made no movement.

Backing up, Emmy made to leave when a thought struck her.

"Professor, have you had your lunch yet?"

"Rosa… in the drawer…"

Assuming that meant that Rosa had made him something to eat that was waiting for him in the drawer and not that Rosa herself was waiting in said drawer, Emmy made her way over to it and started to rummage through. It didn't take too long to find the food – a sandwich and a slice of cake, as well as a small container with cream in. It appeared that Rosa had been spoiling him again, but the cream was exactly what Emmy had wanted. She picked up the container and headed back over to Layton's sleeping form.

"Would you like to have something to eat now?" she teased.

He made a slight nod of approval but otherwise said nothing.

She couldn't do this, it was just wrong, but part of her very much wanted to. She was a rather daring person. Opening the container she started to slowly drip a trickle of the cream down his forehead. It fell onto his nose and from there onto the desk, but did not seem to wake him.

"You're getting this everywhere, Professor, it doesn't look very gentlemanly at all," Emmy laughed.

In response to that, Layton lifted a heavy had to try to wipe his face, but all that succeeded in doing was smudging the cream further across his features.

"Here, allow me," Emmy sighed.

She reached forward, intending to lick the cream from his cheek. A wave of nerves came over her. Even with Layton apparently being such a heavy sleeper this was quite a risky move. But she'd come this far so she might as well go for it…

Her tongue pressed lightly against Layton's cheek.

There was a knock at the door.

Emmy jolted back.

"Y-yes?" she stammered.

"Is th' Professah in 'ere?" Luke called through.

"He is, but don't come-"

It was too late; the young boy had pushed the door open and walked though. His eyes widened at the slight of Layton's face and the pot of cream that had been left on the side.

"Wot on Earth?" he exclaimed.

"I can explain this," Emmy murmured.

"You don't 'ave to, I know exactly wot's goin' on 'ere," said Luke, smirking in a way that made her momentarily panic. He was just a young boy; there was no way that he could know about… that sort of thing. But her worries were soon put to rest as he continued, "You were drawin' on the Professah's face while 'e was asleep."

"Yes! That was exactly what I was doing," Emmy confirmed, voice squeaky.

Luke frowned; "There's somethin' very wrong 'ere, though…"

"There is?" Emmy gulped.

"Definitely," replied Luke, with a nod, "I dunno 'ow often you've done this before, but you missed out the most important part. You can't draw on someone's face without drawin' a moustache!"

"Of course, how silly of me!" agreed Emmy, relieved that she had truly gotten away with her crimes.

It was another hour before poor Layton awoke. By which time both Emmy and Luke were nowhere to be found. He was left feeling rather confused about why his face was so sticky and, upon closer inspection in a mirror, why a rather devious looking moustache had been drawn across his face.

Students these days, they really could be far more trouble than they were worth. Layton made a note to tell Emmy and Luke all about the immaturity of some members of his class when he returned home later.

He could only imagine what they'd think of such childish behaviour.


End file.
